Nothing more
by Icefelis
Summary: It had been one night. One night of pleasure. Nothing more. How did it happen? Storm/Magneto


Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution.

Hey there. How are you all? Well, this is a one time shot. It is an unconventional pairing. I know there was never any hint of Storm/Magneto in the show but I thought it would be interesting for me to try to write one of my own (I know I'm not the first one to write one) Well, enjoy!

**Nothing more**

Lightning struck around her and she basked into it. She could feel the burning heat, the energy running over her naked skin, the wind playing with her wild tresses and the rain coming down from the sky to pearl over her skin. She flew through the clouds, feeling the ghost of a touch from the condensed water. Thunder rumbled in the distance and she closed her eyes, feeling the sound vibrate deep within her stomach. She was connected to it, to nature.  She could feel lightning like bursts of energy in her veins, she could feel rain as if her body was bathed in her tears, she could feel the wind like the oxygen in her lungs and thunder like each pulsation of her heart. 

She flew through the air, head thrown back and arms spread wide. In those times, she could really be free. Rare, however, were the times when she could do this. She would only do so when there was a thunderstorm or another kind of storm. Uncontrolled. Wild. Free. She would not control it but embrace it, letting herself become connected furthermore, becoming an extension of it. Not often enough would she do this, but it would not do to be seen by a passer-by or any of the children. So, the chance to let herself do so were too far in between.

Too soon, thunder and lightning became less and less frequent until there was only the gentle humming of the rain as it felt from the skies. Storm flew down, landing on her balcony, feeling at peace at once. She was always in control, keeping herself calm, always keeping her emotions in check. But in time like this, she was as close as freedom as she could. It was like everything connected with her and, feeling her pain or her sadness, expressed what she did not. It was like she_ was_ the storm. She did not control it nor did she try. She rode it wave after wave. She was the wind, the thunder, the rain and the lightning; she was part of it. 

The blue eyed woman quietly walked to her bed where a towel awaited her with a shirt near it. His shirt. She putted it on, smelling the lingering traces of his scent. It was like he was there with her. All over again. She could still feel him, feel his touch. It was like he was behind her once again, his hands roaming over her shoulders and back, his hot breath on her neck… How could it have happened? Quickly chasing those thoughts out of her mind, she laid down on her bed, trying to find sleep.

_Flash_

One moment she had been alone and the next he had been there, before her. She had not thought having ever met him before, but there had been a familiar feeling to him. She had not been able to place it. He had looked at her as if he knew something she didn't, as if he was seeing everything she was trying to hide.

Why had he come to her, sitting at her table without saying a word? She had detailed him. He had had striking white hair, but not as her own. His had a silver reflect, like white gold. The colour had nothing to do with age. His eyes, however, had brought up a memory that quickly had slipped through her grasp. He had blue eyes, cold and calculating, yet hiding such emotions in their icy depths. He had eyes of a man that had buried his heart long ago and that, sometimes, longed to have it back. 

Everything had snapped into place. The white hair and blue eyes, the familiar feeling.

The mocha skinned woman had brought her drink to her mouth, taking a sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow in question to her companion as he had continued to watch her, never saying a word. What did he want with her? Why was he disturbing her peace now? Tonight. This night. It had been their anniversary. Hers and the one she had loved painfully. It had been the anniversary of his death, of his suicide. As each year, she had honoured his memory and came there, to this place he had loved so much. It had been his dream, his "baby", his tomb. He had put a gun to his head in this place, had felt so much pain he had decided it would be better this way. This night would have been the last time she would have came there. The last time she would have prayed to the Bright lady for him to find peace.

She had felt the barest of touch on her arm and had snapped out of her memories. The enemy had still been sitting there, before her, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. She had given him a pointed look after having glanced at her arm where his hand still had laid. He had smirked and slowly had removed his hands.

"My true name is Eric" They had started talking together. One moment. She had felt connected to him, felt interested. She had wanted more.

_Flash_

His kiss. It had been like warm honey but with a bitter tang. He had looked at her with such desire and passion. She had been on the point to leave him but he had quickly stood up, crushing her body to his. She had felt goosebumps rise on her skin as heat had swept through her body. It had had been a long time since a man had last taken her in his arms. How could it be that he had her panting for more? How could he bring so much desire forth? The heat of his body through her thin clothes had felt like fire on her skin. Slowly, he had intermingled his left hand in her wild mane, putting the other one on her cheek, caressing the soft skin of her lips with his thumb. Her mouth had opened in anticipation. The first contact of his lips on her own had left her in turmoil. She had flushed as a familiar ache had made itself known. She had felt the air get heavier, thicker, her control somewhat slipping a little from her grasp. She had gotten addicted.

_Flash_

He had gotten her in a motel, his kisses frenzier, hotter than before. She had been responding in kind, running her hand on his neck and back. How much like hormonal teenagers they must have looked as he had had her pressed against the wall of the motel hallway, kissing passionately, one of his hands under her shirt, fondling her breast and the other trying to open the damned door. She had briefly seen an elderly couple passing by them and huffing in indignation. She could not have care less. He had finally been able to open the door and they quickly had stumbled in, him closing the door with his foot. She had been in an hazy cloud of passion and desire at this point. There had been no turning back.  All she had been able to feel at this point had been his body, his mouth, his skin. Fire had been running through her body, wetness polling at her thighs as he took off her clothes, lavishing with attention each newly discovered part of her skin, her doing the same to him, taking feminine pride in his moans and groans of pleasure. She had taken him inside of her willingly, hooking her legs at his waist, encouraging him to love her over and over again. They had loved each other until late at night, as rain poured outside of their windows. In the dimly lighted room, she had seen some of the object levitate and spin. They had laid in each other arms afterwards. She had known she had to go back to the mansion, go back to her duty, but she had not been able to tear herself away.

_Flash_

She had woken up in the early hours of dawn as he slept soundlessly. In the dark, she had searched for her clothes in the tiny room, putting them on quickly and quietly. She had looked at him one last time and had taken his shirt on an impulse. It had been one night, only one. It was meaningless. Two people trying to forget together. There had been no Magneto and no Storm. There had been no X-Men and no Acolytes. There had been no war, no humans, no mutants. It had been nothing, a one night stand, a time in space and time when nothing was but them and their pleasure.

_Flash_

Storm quickly sat up. It had been one night, one time spent together to be forgotten after. Then why was she still thinking about him? Why did she still long for his kisses, for his touch? It had been purely physical between them. Nothing more. It was only sex she repeated to herself, as if to convince someone else but her. But there was no one with her, only ghosts of the past, ghosts of pleasure and oblivion. She went out on her balcony, looking at the sky, and took off her shirt. Once again she took flight, pushed higher and higher by gusts of winds. One last question remained in her heart however; did he long for her too?

A man kept in the shadows, watching the white haired goddess fly in the warm night. It was only one night he told himself. Nothing more.

The end

Well, I do hope you liked this fic. Please, let me know what you think, that's what is keeping me writing.

**( ) ( ) **Thank you for your review. I'm happy you like it. I hope you'll like this one too (if you read it)
    
    **randomevofan() **thank you for having reviewed. This one is not L/O but I'm already working on some kind of follow-up of  "solitude dans la foule"
    
    **todd fan **Thanks for you review. 
    
    This fic was for you guys. Thank you.


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